Reincarnation Troubles
by Maddeline Kirkland-Bonnefoy
Summary: Junior year is ending. That can mean so many things. For one scrambled and crazy group of friends, it means getting ready for eighteenth birthdays, Pre-SAT tests, and one more summer in high school. Can one betrayal rock everything? Full summary inside.
1. Story Begins, and a Date for Sam

**Full Summary:** Junior year is ending. For one group of whacky, crazy, spastic friends, this means a lot of things. Getting ready for senior year, eighteenth birthdays to plan, getting used to the fact that they only have one year left together, Pre-SAT tests this year, SAT's next year, and just everything else that life could throw at them. When one betrayal rocks everything, how will they cope, and Sam in particular? And, what's up with the crazy dreams they've all been having? What do they mean for these girls, and how will they handle the revelation of what they _do _mean, along with everything else in their lives? Read to find out!

**Disclaimer:** Okay, Sailor Moon is © to Naoko Takeuchi, BUT I am © to myself! …oh, wait… I don't even own myself… well; you get the point, right?

Anyways, on with the fic! Oh, and 'Shorinji-ryu' means 'Shoalin Temple'; 'Renshinkan' means 'The place where you make your heart strong', or 'strong heart' and 'Karate-do' means 'The way of the empty hand'. All in all, it's a martial-art which does not intend to harm, but to subdue or defend without the use of weapons, which was originally practiced and created by Shoalin monks in China.

A young woman, about seventeen or so, lay on her bed (on her stomach) reading the third volume in a manga series called _Suki_. Her apparel today consisted of a pair of—what appeared to be—dark-wash men's jeans, and a loose black hoodie sweatshirt with the kanji for Shorinji-ryu Renshinkan Karate-do across the back. It also had a picture of a red and gold dragon on the front. Her long and discreetly muscled legs were bent at the knees; they were also sticking up in the air. This allowed her average-sized, pale feet to be seen since the bottoms of her jeans had bunched up around her calves. Her hair was a light brownish-blonde, and was cut very much like a boys; however, her bangs still sometimes fell into her greenish-hazel eyes, obscuring her vision slightly. Her skin, or what could be seen of it, was a dark shade of olive; not quite tan, but not quite pale either.

But, then again, how tan could ANYONE get, living in Idaho Falls, Idaho? A light, alto-pitched chuckle would occasionally break the silence, if she read something particularly amusing. However, moments after one of these small laughs had escaped her slightly thin, colorless lips; a shrill, annoying voice broke the tranquil silence of that spring evening. (It was about 5:00, to be precise.)

"SAMANTHA! SHOULDN'T YOU BE PRACTICING?"

The girl, now identified as Samantha, muttered something that sounded a lot like, "Sometimes, I really hate you…" as she rolled off her bed. She landed on her feet with soft _thump_, before moving to her nightstand. She placed the bookmark laying there in her book, marking her page. She then closed the book and layed it down on the nightstand, before making her way out of her room.

As she crossed the 'bridge' connecting her room to the rest of the second floor, Samantha paused for a moment. She looked down into the family room at her mother. No — Sam's mind protested — that woman was not her mother. _'All she did was give birth to me,' _Sam thought scornfully, _'it's not as if she ever really loved me, the bitch!'_

Barbara Miller was a woman of some forty-nine odd years, and even if her brown hair—which all of her three daughters had inherited (Sam's, however, was more of a sandy-blond, considering how much time she spent in the sun, seeing as she was on the track team)—was now showing streaks of gray, her brown eyes still hadn't lost any of their spark. She was currently engaged with helping her second oldest,—or second youngest, whichever you prefer—Rebecca with her math homework. Samantha sighed, as she continued on her way to the stairs, and quickly decended them, making her way into the formal living room.

Here, among immaculately kept furnishings, was a baby-grand piano—which had been a fifteenth birthday gift—waiting for its sole player.

After Sam lifted the key-cover, she ran her fingers almost lovingly over the ivory and ebony keys. She then pulled out the bench a bit, and sat down. Her fingers played the first note, almost hesitantly, but after a few moments, she continued on to play Beethoven's _'Moonlight Sonata'_. This was the last song her teacher had taught her. Her eyes drifted closed, as she remembered her teacher, Setsuna Meiou.

Setsuna had been quite tall for a Japanese woman, her skin having been quite tanned—a rare trait in a pure Asian woman. Her hair was very long, about to her knees even when some of it was up in a bun at the back of Setsuna's head, and it was such a deep shade of green that it was almost black. Her eyes, which were guarded and secretive more often than not, were a mix of violet and garnet. She had always seemed to hold the answers to the questions being asked all over the world.

A sour note, painful to her ears and one Samantha was _completely_ _sure_ she had _not_ played, caused her eyes to snap open. Her hands froze mid-note, the piece cut abruptly, and her head snapped around to see her sister Rebecca's grinning face merely a scant inch from her own. Their eyes met for a split second—grey-blue locked onto greenish-hazel.

Samantha inhaled sharply, her eyes widening. Shocked and slightly disoriented, she quickly backed away. Her anger at having her personal space invaded in such a way was, for the time being, completely overridden by her need to get away from the offending presence. Once she had regained the ability to speak, the older girl demanded, "What was that for?"

"Nothin', I just like messin' with ya; that's all sis," Rebecca said, her grin widening as she took a seat beside her older sister on the piano bench.

"Where's Barbara?" Samantha questioned, once she had reigned in her emotions and placed a carefully practiced, placid look on her face. She didn't comment on how her sister's horrid use of grammar hurt her ears. Rebecca made a face. She still wondered why her sister called their mother 'Barbara', while she called their father 'Dad'. And yet, she didn't ask; getting yelled at by her sister one too many times had taught her to hold her tongue on that particular subject.

"With Chrissie, I think," was the younger girl's answer, as her gray-blue eyes contemplated her older sister. A sardonically muttered, "Isn't she always?" caused Rebecca to nod silently, and place a hand on her sister's shoulder in compassion. The twelve-year-old was surprised—even though she knew she shouldn't have been—when Sam took her wrist in hand, and removed the younger girl's hand from her shoulder.

The elder girl then said curtly, "I have asked you before: please DO. NOT. TOUCH. ME." Sam placed her hands on the key-cover then, and with an expert flick of her wrists, it was once more shielding the piano keys. The martial-artist rose from the bench, and left the room. She was up the stairs before Rebecca could say another word.

In her own room, Samantha took out her cell phone and called up a friend of hers. She—much to her delight—received the number of a girl she had wanted to speak to for a long time: Ashley Michelle Anderson. The track-star smiled, as she dialed the number.

She recalled how this had all begun, as she waited for Ashley to pick up.

Samantha had first seen the other girl sitting in the stands during one of her first track meets a little over three years ago. Sam had felt odd at the time, like she had seen this girl before, or perhaps known her in some previous life. However, when she noted the absurdness of that thought, she said to herself, "Previous lives? What in God's name am I thinking? Okay, _maybe_ I need to cut down on the magical girl manga…"

But, all through the race and all the days that followed, Sam hadn't been able to get Ashley's face out of her head. Those beautiful, sea-blue eyes—ones you could very easily drown in—her long, wavy aquamarine hair, which reminded the track-star of the turbulent, flashing seas, and her dazzling, breathtaking smile… Ashley seemed too sweet—too perfect—to be real.

The violinist's face haunted Samantha whenever she closed her eyes. Whenever she drifted off in Math class; when she went to sleep at night; each time she saw and/or dreamed of Ashley, and each time her eyes snapped back open, the image was gone, leaving her cruelly alone—and in trouble if she had fallen asleep in school. And then Sam realized what had happened: she had a crush on Ashley—and a huge one at that.

And that thought scared the shit out of her.

She hadn't felt this way since she met Alice-sempai, and even then it had only lasted until she had told the black-belt how she felt. She left that karate lesson with a red handprint on her face—yes Alice had slapped her. However, the Vietnamese woman had promised that she wouldn't tell anyone, so that Sam could live with the feelings on her own. Samantha had then vowed she would never fall for anyone again. What a stupid, rash thing to do, she reflected now. She had, however, kept that vow—or at least, until she met Ashley.

"_Hello?" _Samantha bit her bottom lip in what could have been described a euphoric excitement. Ashley's voice even _sounded _beautiful!

"Um, hi, uh... Ashley Anderson, right?" Sam waited for confirmation of this before continuing. "You, uh, probably don't know me, but… I think we have mutual friends; Evelyin Steele, or Qaasimah Lang, maybe?"

"_You know Evee?" _Ashley paused. Then, _"Oh, you're the green-eyed blonde from the track team, right? Evee talks about you all the time; says you two are best friends and have been since freshman year. Is that right?"_

"My name's Samantha, but you hit the nail on the head other than that. And yeah, I've known that soccer nut since we were fifteen—or, well she was fourteen, but that's not really important. You're a violinist, right?"

The aqua-haired beauty loosed a laugh that sounded liked bells to Samantha, and then said,_ "Yes, I am. So, why did you call me? Any particular reason, Sam? Oh, um, may I call you Sam?"_

"Yeah, it's cool with me, so long as I can find a nickname for you," the blonde replied, smirking slightly.

Ashley giggled sweetly again._ "That's alright with me. But really, why did you call?"_

"Go out with me?" Samantha posed the question so candidly that the girl on the other end of the line nearly dropped her cell phone in shock.

"_What?" _When the spluttered response reached her ears, Samantha felt her heart sink.

"I'm sorry I asked; I guess I just assumed that—" the track runner was cut off by the other girl.

"_No! No. It's alright; I was just a bit shocked, that's all. I would love to go out with you. Pick me up at seven?" _The request and assurance made Sam nearly whoop for joy.

"Alright, I'll see you then Chelly." The nickname the blonde had chosen stemmed from the violinist's middle name, rather than her first, but she figured it would be fine. At least, she _hoped_ it would be fine.

"Well, '_bye Sam." _And with a _click _and a dial tone, their conversation was ended. It also seemed, much to the aforementioned teen's delight, that her nickname for her crush was perfectly okay.

'_Hmm, she said I should pick her up at seven... That means I should be there at six-fifty-five. It's five-forty-five now, so I have some time still,' _the sandy-blonde thought. She then closed her cell phone and put it on her nightstand beside her manga book, before heading downstairs once more. Upon entering the kitchen, she mentioned to Barbara that she would be going out at six-thirty, and that she would be back at an—as of yet—undetermined hour.

When her mother questioned as to where she was going, Samantha simply turned and headed back up to her room. Once there, she began going through her closet to see what she would wear on her date.

"Nah, can't wear that, too girly," or "Hmm, maybe… wait, gross, that goes in the laundry," were the muttered comments which passed her lips, as she dug through her clothing. It was a known fact that she had more than she knew what to do with—hell, half of it was stuff she didn't even wear—but when your mother is a shopaholic, you tend to have clothing bought for you whether you want it or not. Finally, after much deliberation and searching, she selected what she was going to wear.

As she emerged from her closet, Samantha glanced at the clock. She cursed silently: it was 6:00. "Great, now I only have about half an hour," she muttered to herself, and then shrugged. "Eh, I can do it." She then proceeded to close and lock her bedroom door before stripping down to her undergarments.

Her body never had been shapely and she had never been one to wear anything but the most boyish of clothing allowed—much to her mother's dismay—but lately she had gone from being slightly endowed to not at all. No, plastic surgery had not been a factor in this equation, but a roll of medical tape had. Said roll of medical tape was hidden, along with her rated M (18+) lesbian manga, at the very back of her closet. This was also where the tuxedo she would wear for prom hung, covered by a black plastic bag. She had—and felt no guilt what-so-ever about doing so—convinced her mother it was a dress. After shaking her head to clear if of her presently useless thoughts, the tall blonde set about getting ready.

Once she had finished binding her breasts tightly with the medical tape—she had fished it out while getting her clothing—Sam tugged on and buttoned up her shirt. She paused halfway through, however. Something had happened, just now. It was almost like… being hit with a sense of déjà vu; and then the runner realized that she had felt like this just before the Winter Formal—collectively called the Boat Dance, since it was healed on a yacht, by PCH (Pacifica Christian High School) students—she had attended Freshman year; she had been alone and nervous as all hell. Sam brushed it off and continued getting ready for her date. Little did she know, however, that the feeling was _nothing _akin to her nervousness from that Boat Dance three years ago.

Sailor Pluto stood before the Chronos Gates. She gazed stoically through the Gates of Space-Time; she watched as Sam prepared for her date with Ashley. _'They are how they were, and yet not… They are changed; perhaps the Inners the most,' _the red-eyed Soldier of Time mused. _'It shall be entertaining to see how events transpire.'_

—End Chapter One—


	2. Sam Gets Lost, and Evelyn Helps

Sam made her way out of her room some moments later, carefully making her way to her parents' room. She slipped inside, sneaking silently to the in-suite bathroom. The runner quickly grabbed the bottle of cologne and surreptitiously used the thing her father had so many times forbidden her to wear. She then quietly left the room once more, entering the bathroom she shared with her sister. As she checked to make sure she looked okay, Rebecca appeared in the doorway.

The pre-teen scrutinized her sister, noting that Sam looked like a handsome boy; which meant she had achieved her objective. The elder girl wore a light blue men's button-down shirt with white pinstripes, a pair of black men's dress pants, and black men's dress shoes. Rebecca sniffed the air, having thought she smelled something out of place; she smiled.

"So, who is she? Do I know her? You only steal Dad's cologne when you have a date, which is almost never." The runner regarded her sister, wondering if she should dignify that question with an answer or not; she was saved from having to choose by her mother showing up behind her sister. With a quick look, Sam could already tell her mother didn't approve of her clothing. The blonde sighed, speaking before Barbara had the chance.

"I know you don't approve, but I really couldn't care less what you think." _Suck on THAT, bitch!_ Sam added the last part mentally, knowing she was in enough trouble for her actual comment to begin with. A glance and a "you know what to do" look shot her way alerted Rebecca, and she quickly distracted their mother so Sam could escape.

By the time Barbara noticed her oldest daughter was gone, the front door had just closed.

_'I escaped and I wasn't even wearing my fox hat! NO ONE catches the Fox!_' When Sam completely realized what she had just thought, she almost laughed aloud; however, she refrained from doing so, in favor of completing her escape. When she came around her parents' cars and her own came into sight, the blonde smirked; oh, how she loved her car.

A golden yellow Corvette had been the best seventeenth birthday present ever - albeit she had gifted herself after about four years of saving and a little slight-of-hand to get the rest fielded by her parents' money. Shaking her head to clear it, Sam walked to her car, fishing her keys out of her pocket as she went. She quickly unlocked her car and got in, checking her phone to make sure she wouldn't be late. Ten minutes.

And then she realized something VERY BAD: She didn't know how to get to Ashley's place. '_Eh, I'll give it a shot anyway_,' the runner thought, placing her keys in the ignition and starting the car.

-Ten minutes later-

"Shit!" Sam cursed; she had been driving for ten minutes, and now she had no idea where she was. AND she still had no clue how to get to Ashley's place. With a sigh of self-loathing, the blonde pulled off to the side of the road, got out her cell phone, and called Evelyn. It rang a couple times, and then her best friend picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Konkeo. Umm… I don't mean to sound like a complete moron, but-" Sam found herself cut off.

"You ARE a complete moron, Sam. What did you do NOW, and HOW is it my problem?" The elder girl winced at the truth in Evelyn's words.

"I… Have a date and I have to idea how to get to her place." Evelyn sighed in exasperation, and Sam could imagine the soccer player rolling her eyes.

"And how would I know how to get there?"

"Because it's Ashley." Sam's reply was simple and just a bit sheepish.

"Okay. So, do you at least know where you are right now?"

"Umm… No. I don't."

"MORON! Forget it; I'm not helping you. Bejesus fish you, Sam!" Evelyn growled before hanging up.

The older girl stared at her phone in shock. "She just hung up on me. What the hell do I do NOW?" And then, Sam - as we have established, being the moron she is - decided to call Evelyn back.

"This had better be un-moronic, Sam," Evelyn said, seeming annoyed now.

"What did I do?" Sam whined, not getting it.

"Yep, still moronic. Good bye." And, again, Evelyn hung up on her.

_'Okay, third time's the charm_,' Sam thought, her thumb tapping out Evelyn's number on autopilot. Sam never even got the chance to say anything.

"Fine," Evelyn said quietly, seeming to finally accept her friend's moronic state. "Figure out where the hell you are and then call me back." And she hung up a third time.

Sam sighed, and then set about getting her GPS - which was a piece of crap - working. This took her twenty minutes and a lot of swearing. Finally, it worked and the runner learned that she was twenty miles out of Boise; in other words, she was about two hours from home and was going to be skinned alive when she showed up an hour late. She then called Evelyn again.

"Either you're more of a moron than I though, or your GPS is just crap," Evelyn stated candidly, seeming to laugh at her friend's misfortune.

"I think it's both. Anyway, I'm about twenty miles out of Boise."

"What the bejesus fish, Sam? How did you end up there in ten minutes?"

"Umm… I have a tendency to ignore any and all speed limits?"

"You really ARE more of a moron than I thought. Anyway, you wanted directions to Ashley's, right?" The younger girl then set about giving her friend the directions. It turned out that Ashley lived only a twenty minute walk away from Sam's own house. The blonde then high-tailed it to Ashley's place ASAP - she was already twenty minutes late as it was. If she was any later, she was SO completely screwed.

-End Chapter Two-

* * *

(A/N: Gomen for the shortness of it... The chapters get longer as the story progresses; however, Sam and Evelyn will be the main characters, even after others join them on stage. It'll be alternately told from Sam and Evelyn's points of view, but it won't be in first person. As for who is who... You'll all just have to wait and see, won't you? Yeah, I'm sure you can guess who Sam, Evelyn, and Ashley are, but the rest won't be so easy. Now, enough of my ramblings, just PLEASE review!

Ja ne, until the next chappy!

Tenou Haruka(myself), and Tsukino Usagi(go-ahead-and-try).)


	3. A Soccer Star's Que and Sam Gets Slapped

**A/N:** Well, here we go again! Chap Three is here, and I hope it won't disappoint ;) Anyways, I hope you all like the chap, and also send some praise to Evelyn; without her, I would've ended up stuck at chap one. Ah, and chapters four and five should be here soon - though, as to their_ exact _time, I won't say anything. You'll get an explanation as to why in the A/N at the bottom of this chappy, and also why this took so long in the first place.

And now, without further adeiu, on with chapter three!

_

* * *

_

_Why am I such a moron?_ Sam wondered as she pressed harder on the gas. Everything had gone perfectly, and then she had to go be the moron she was and _fuck it up_. The runner sighed, furious at herself, as she once again remembered the date.

XXXXXXXX

_She had arrived about half an hour late, but that hadn't nearly been the worst part. Sam had explained the situation and been forgiven before she and Ashley had set about on their date. They had, luckily, still been able to get a relatively good table at a restaurant Ashley had wanted to eat at for a while._

_Conversation flowed comfortably for around two hours before the violinist had pulled the blonde out onto the dance floor. It had been a bit awkward at first, but eventually they had become comfortable again. Sam did her best to keep her eyes on Ashley's face and hands in an appropriate position on her waist, which was easier said than done when Ashley's mid-thigh, backless, strapless, elegantly clingy aqua dress is taken into consideration._

_They left about an hour later. The drive back was spent idly chatting about rather nothing. And then, when Sam had made to bid the aqua-haired girl "good night," everything went to hell._

XXXXXXXX

_Why, why, why?_ Sam berated herself. _Why did I have to be moronic enough to kiss her?_ She grabbed her cell phone, ignoring the laws, and called home, informing her mother that she was going to Evelyn's, but hung up before any questions could be asked.

* * *

Meanwhile, Evelyn was wondering when Sam would screw up. Sam was out on a date with her soon-to-be girlfriend Ashley. From the way she spoke of Ashley, Evelyn could tell Sam loved her.

_Sam's probably already breaking the laws_, Evelyn reasoned, picking up her cell phone. She ignored her two new texts, one from her best friend Olivia and the other from another best friend – and Olivia's boyfriend – Ian, and opened her contacts list. She scrolled all the way down to the "M"s, since she organized by last name. Choosing the options "call" and "mobile 1," she held her phone to her ear.

"She's calling home to say she's staying with me," Evelyn muttered, hanging up on the busy signal. As she was waiting, she was invited into an "aim" chat room by "lol_plox_foo," another best friend – and crush – Stephen. She typed in her username, "romeo~save-me," and her password while listening intently for a car arriving.

"lol…: phebe?" he asked. Evelyn laughed; Phebe was the name of the character she was playing in theatre class.

"rom…: close but no cigar, silvius" she replied, using his character's name.

"lol…: got a sec?"

"rom…: hmmm…

i guess

porque?"

"lol…: there's this girl"

"rom…: school?"

"lol…: yeah

you know her pretty well"

"rom…: kk

cont"

"lol…: and i sorta…"

"rom…: like her?"

"lol…: no…"

"rom…: hate her? XD"

"lol…: no!

positive emotion"

"rom…: crush on her?"

"lol…: crush on her?"

"rom…: yeah

i heart her"

Evelyn's heart thumped loudly. Her crush was crushing on someone else. Stephen hadn't mentioned a name, but Evelyn was sure that if he did, it wouldn't be hers. After all, they were almost as close as brother and sister. If he liked her in _that_ way, he would have told her.

When a sound-bite of "Ball and Chains" by Social Distortion sang from her phone, Evelyn was jarred from her thoughts and – in the process – dropped her phone. She picked it up quickly, knowing that "Ball and Chains" meant a new message on 'aim' if she closed her phone. She quickly read the new message.

"lol…: phebe?

phebster?

imouto-chan?"

"rom…: you can't spell

nani, onii-chan?"

"lol…: i know

what happened?"

"rom…: dropped my phone

which is why i can't have nice things"

"lol…: why you drop your phone?

/ is sleepy"

"rom…: noise outside scared me"

"lol…: that was me

i'm your stalker"

"rom…: cause that's not scary at all

as long as you do it out of love

silvius?

silvester?

hey, stephen?"

"lol…: what?

didn't get your last message

totally just heard that song"

"rom…: cause that's not scary at all

as long as you do it out of love

taylor swift, gurl"

"lol…: it is

i'm a guy…"

"rom…: fine

taylor swift, boi

lol

i heart you, too"

"lol…: lol

isn't it sort of sexist that i requested male?"

"rom…: lol

sort of is

gtg

i heart you

lol"

Evelyn closed her phone and walked to the front door to be greeted by the slamming of a car door and angry stomps up onto the porch. Evelyn opened the door for Sam to come through. Hearing "Ball and Chains," Evelyn pulled her phone out, but put it on the dining room table. She'd ignored sixteen characters; it wasn't a crime. What was the crime was what those sixteen characters spelled: "i LOVE YOU, evelyn."

"You kissed her, didn't you," Evelyn said, leaning against the doorframe. It wasn't a question, and not nearly forceful enough for an accusation. Simply following up an assumption. "Get in here, baka," she sighed, stepping inside and plopping onto the couch.

Sam glared at Evelyn; she was really not in the mood to be called an idiot by her best friend. The taller of the two then eyes the phone which had been set upon the table before mirroring the soccer player's actions and sitting down on the couch as well. Sam didn't say anything about Evelyn's phone; it wasn't her place, and now wasn't the time.

"Yeah." The assumption didn't need clarification. They both knew it, even without the runner's confirmation. The taller blonde raised a cold hand to her right cheek; it still stung and burned red. A moment of silence passed, and then it was broken by Sam's phone ringing; "Hallelujah" by an artist Sam could never remember for the life of her sand from the runner's phone. The taller girl yanked it out of her pocket and answered it, a scowl darkening her facial features.

"What, 'Nea? Now is really _not_ the time," Sam growled, her anger at herself being taken out on Linnea for the moment.

"Just wanted to make sure I knew where your karate test will be." The elder girl's response was simple, seeming like she was used to Sam's odd mood quirks; which she was – all or most of the runner's friends were.

"The rec center, same as always. Don't call me again until tomorrow." And with that, the runner hung up; Linnea never got the chance to reply. Sam sighed, opting to turn off her phone, but never actually doing it. She stuffed her not-off phone into her pocket, and turned back to Evelyn, as she had turned away during the terse conversation. The runner noted that Evelyn had a "Who the hell was that?" expression on her face, and decided to explain, even if the smaller blonde should have known who Linnea was.

"Y'know, Linnea? Tall-ish, shoulder-length blonde hair, blue-green eyes, was in conditioning with me, was there when Comer woke you up on the Retreat freshman year, obsessed with Latin, college sophomore this year?" She finally got an "Oh yeah!" at which Sam laughed. It seemed that the slapped blonde was coming out of her funk. And then, Sam grinned mischievously; she got up, moved to the dining room table, and picked up Evelyn's phone despite – or perhaps because of – the younger blonde's indignant exclamation. The runner flipped open the phone, an almost malicious glee lighting her face when she read the 'aim' message.

"Hey, Koneko? Have you been hiding someone from me? A _boyfriend_, maybe?" Sam smirked; she liked making fun of her best friend, probably more than any san person ever would. Then again, neither of them were sane to begin with. Hardly any of their friends were.

"Oi!" Evelyn exclaimed, jumping up from her seat. "Get off my phone!"

Sam held the phone just out of reach, considering the almost full foot height advantage she had over her straight friend. The taller grinned, delighted in the newfound game.

"I don't have a boyfriend. Now, give me the phone," Evelyn demanded. She extended her arm, rolled onto the balls of her feet, but she was only able to brush the buttons. She'd jump like she was taught in volleyball, but she would then whack her phone and send it flying to the opposite end of the table, which wasn't a good job, not matter how much abuse the poor first generation Verizon enV had already been through.

"Loosen your grip," Evelyn said.

Sam shook her head, smiling. "You'll just knock it out of my hand, Koneko."

"I'm serious!" Evelyn exclaimed, bashing her palm against Sam's other arm. "You're mashing buttons," Evelyn pleaded.

When the dial tone rang, followed by a quick succession of beeps, Evelyn's eyebrows met in the middle, the momentary confusion plain on her face. "Hang up!" Evelyn shrieked, jumping to try and push the "end" button.

"Uh, sure," a voice answered, though it was neither girl.

"No," Evelyn sighed, "not you."

"Err…" the voice trailed off. Evelyn realized then, identified by his 'I'm confused' sound, that Stephen was on the phone.

"Stephen," Evelyn said, "hablas a Sam para yo, por favor." Evelyn and Stephen were both in AP Spanish IV while Sam was in Latin III, so Sam and Stephen often spoke in Spanish so Sam wouldn't understand them.

"¿Por que?" Stephen asked.

"Porque," Evelyn snapped back. "Sam tiene mi teléfono y la necessito porque es de yo, no de ella."

Stephen then said something that Evelyn assumed was in Latin - "Da eam telephonum," - because she got her phone back.

"Miras a tu patio," Stephen said.

Confused, Evelyn walked to her front door, opened the heavy thing with a bit of difficulty, and peered into the night. Stephen looked a bit like a vampire with his face illuminated by the backlight on his phone.

"There's a boom box over my head," Stephen smirked, closing his cell phone.

"In your mind?" Evelyn said, cracking a slight smile as she slipped her phone into the pocket of her jeans.

Stephen nodded as he followed her into her house. "Did you get my last message?" he inquired.

"No, Sam read it and accidently deleted it," Evelyn answered.

"Happy birthday, by the way," Stephen grinned.

"What do you know," Evelyn laughed, "it's 12:01."

"Which reminds me," the taller blonde commented, butting into the conversation. "I need to buy a rose later." When she noted the looks she was getting – confused from Stephen and annoyed from Evelyn – Sam simply laughed. "Koneko, explain it to your boyfriend, for now I will crash in your guest room." With that, the runner headed off to said guest room. She figured she'd need the sleep to figure out what to do about this whole situation in about seven or eight hours.

* * *

A/N :: Hey all. It's Evelyn! Like, whoa. I haven't ever done an author's note in this story. Life - and school - ate both of us alive, so take a deep breath. We haven't written anything life-changing (yet) so you don't need to pass out from our lack of publishing. And, in case any of you were wondering, Stephen is fictional. Ruka (Sam) did date Ashley for quite some time, but I've never dated anyone, so please don't flame poor Ruka with complaints about Stephen. Danke. :3

So, there you have - in 99.9% Eva's own words - why we've been AWOL and MIA for the past... Months... I digress... -_- Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and are looking forward to the next one! See ya then!

Sincerely,

Haruka Tenou (Sam) and Usagi Tsukino (Evelyn, aka go-ahead-and-try)


	4. A Relatonship Crops Up, and Planning

The blonde found herself awakened eight hours later by a certain best friend of hers barging into the room, yanking the blinds up, and then ripping the blanket off. That caused Sam to fall to the floor with a crash and a groan of pain. She laid there for a moment, a heap of limbs and blankets, before flinging an arm across her eyes.

She muttered, "Koneko, are you _trying_ to kill me?" She then added as an afterthought, "You're lucky I slept in my clothes, otherwise you'd be seeing me in nothing besides a sports bra and boxers. Not that you haven't seen me only half-dressed before, but I'm just saying." She shifted her arm to regard her best friend lazily with one green eye, the other still being covered by her arm.

"Yes," Evelyn answered simply, "yes I am." The blanket and sheet were then taken from Sam and laid back on the bed. Evelyn began making the bed before gently hitting Sam in the back with her foot.

"You're the reason I'm not having kids," Evelyn stated plainly.

"I thought you loved kids," Sam said sleepily, yawning after she finished speaking.

"I do, but teenagers never listen. Now get up!" Evelyn demanded.

"No kids?" a voice wondered.

"Shut up!" Evelyn yelled, smacking Stephen in the face with a pillow. "You asked me out this morning; we're not even a couple yet."

"No jokes?" Stephen asked, putting the pillow on the bed.

"No sex jokes, including baby daddy and kid jokes," Evelyn clarified. She then left the room and could be heard banging around in the kitchen.

"Why is she so mad this morning?" Stephen asked.

"No one ever knows," Sam muttered, standing up. They both cautiously made their way to the kitchen where Evelyn was pouring Cheerios into a bowl.

"You both know where the food is," Evelyn said before retreating to the living room couch. Stephen followed, resting her feet on his lap as she sprawled out.

"Why are your feet so cold?" Stephen laughed. "It's, like, ninety degrees out."

"I have the feet of an eighty year old man," Evelyn grumbled.

"Well, that's sexy," Stephen joked, earning a small smile from Evelyn.

"You act like you're an old, married couple," Sam commented.

"No one asked you," Evelyn countered, throwing a Cheerio at Sam.

"Does it look like I care that no one asked?" Sam retorted, idly tossing a cereal bar up and then catching it.

"Eat the freaking cereal bar," Evelyn ordered, annoyed at Sam's insane eating habits, or lack-there-of.

"No." Her answer was simple, but held an edge of defiance.

"Eat. It."

"No."

"Eat the damn thing or I'll shove it down your throat!"

"Don't turn into Qaasimah, Koneko, and I'd like to see you try." Sam smirked, assuming she'd won. She hadn't.

"OW! Geez, Koneko," Sam rubbed her head, which Evelyn had just kicked; Sam was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch.

"Now eat it," was Evelyn's only answer.

To this, Sam only stuck out her tongue; she was feeling immature this morning – well, more immature than usual.

"Ashley has more use for that than I do; now eat the cereal bar." Evelyn's retort was dry and just a bit annoyed.

"No." And their same old song-and-dance was repeated.

"Anorexic."

"Am not!"

"Yes, you are."

"I am not, Koneko!"

"I say again, yes, you are."

"_No_, I'm _not_."

"Denial is the first stage of depression."

"Wait, what? That doesn't even make sense!"

"Yes it does."

And the argument began again.

"Fine," Sam surrendered. She toyed with the bar just a moment longer until it looked like Evelyn was about to kick her again.

"No kicking," Stephen advised, grabbing Evelyn's ankle.

Evelyn then, set on being victorious, leaned over Stephen and promptly smacked Sam with her hand.

"Contain her," Sam requested, rubbing her right temple where she'd been smacked.

"You have more experience," Stephen protested, grabbing her right wrist.

"Actually, no," Evelyn grinned. "She was too afraid of being kicked. She yelled at me, but that's about it." She then reached across herself with her left arm, clenching and unclenching her fist. Despite her long limbs, she wasn't able to make any purchase. She then gave up, her arm retreating to a more comfortable position.

"Seems like you've contained her," Sam congratulated, biting a piece of her cereal bar off.

Stephen smirked playfully. He loved Evelyn, more than even he was able to comprehend. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, he loved teasing her.

Evelyn reached her left hand out, poised like a ready talon, and slowly, but gently, grazed her nails down Stephen's right cheek. Her face was solemn and she left no mark.

Stephen answered her graze with one of his own. The difference, though, was he grazed the corner of her mouth with his. He leaned his face gently against hers, feeling the warmth as blush filled her cheeks.

Evelyn wriggled out of Stephen's now loose grip to curl into a ball, hiding her head between her chest and knees. Of course she loved Stephen and she badly wanted to kiss him. She just didn't want to do so in front of Sam. The reason? If things got too passionate or if she retreated, Sam would never allow her to hear the end of it.

"Cheater," Evelyn muttered.

"_Now_ she's contained," Sam laughed.

A muffled snap of "shut up" was heard, but it was filled with embarrassment.

And then, Sam burst out laughing. Her cereal bar went flying as she toppled over from laughing. A struggle ensued as Sam tried to get away from Evelyn's attempt at her life.

"No! Not the face!" Sam begged, half laughing and half screaming. She tried to get up and run, but – as usual – ended up face-planting instead.

"Koneko… Please don't kill me!"

Glare.

"Koneko…" It came as a pitiful and humiliating whimper. If the situation had been different, the taller blonde would have chastised herself for it, but as of now, she was a bit too busy trying to stay alive. She was brought back to reality by another kick

"Ow!" This merely led to more kicking.

"This is friend abuse!" Sam was still trying to get away.

"Contain her again – _please_!"

"Don't even try to get away!"

Scream. Kick. Kick. Silence.

"I…hate…you…Koneko…"

The soccer goalie merely kicked the martial-artist again.

"Ow… Friend abuse…" The smaller blonde silenced her with one last kick.

"I'm shutting up now."

And Evelyn made her way back to the couch, looking both pissed and smug. Sam? She laid in a bruised heap on the floor, muttering about friend abuse and a crazy Koneko.

"Don't even think about it," Evelyn warned, curling into a ball again. She glared at Stephen through her bangs and lowered her eyes before her gaze could soften.

"I'd prefer if you two didn't kill each other," Stephen stated politely. "After all, blood never comes out of carpet."

"Yes, it does," Evelyn said, pulling one eyebrow up, something she learned to do from several different fictional characters. Although Stephen was joking and trying to lighten the mood, Evelyn had taken him quite seriously.

"Albeit," she continued, "it's difficult, but it's possible."

"Soccer?" Sam asked. At first, it seemed like a broken and off-topic question, but the connection was made when the answer was given.

"But of course, Miss Miller," Evelyn replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Sam nodded, acknowledging Evelyn's answer. Sam's sports of choice were track and field alongside martial arts, specifically Karate. She'd never hurt herself too badly during either, though she often had a bruise on one of her limbs from sparring, or on the more rare occasions, something broken (her right had seemed to be broken once every year, strangely enough…). Evelyn, however, played volleyball and soccer, frequently ice-skating and playing flag football with friends. So, unlike Sam, she took serious damage like a daily pill. Volleyball led to jammed wrists and sore knees, though both were easily iced and wrapped. Soccer, however, let to bruises, scraped knees, bent wrists, twisted or sprained ankles, and the occasional deep muscle bruise. Flag football had the same dangers, though she mostly got bruises and the occasional scrapes. Ice-skating was relatively safe, though she sometimes did get blisters or a bruised tailbone. All in all, Evelyn knew how to get blood out of _everything_.

Evelyn shifted over on the couch, still remaining in a ball, until she was sitting next to Stephen. Gently, she rested her head on his shoulder, silently apologizing both for freaking him out and for beating up Sam, though only because it worried him. Sam deserved it in her eyes. Stephen rested his cheek against her forehead, her waist fitting in the crook of his arm as he held her right hand. Her legs slowly fell, shifting to rest on his legs. Evelyn and Stephen were perfectly at peace, she visibly as she closed her eyes.

Sam began to giggle, trying her best to stay quiet. She didn't want to disrupt the couple, though she'd known Evelyn and Stephen would eventually fall for each other.

"If I weren't so comfortable, I'd kill you," Evelyn threatened tiredly, opening her ice blue eyes.

"Gomenasai!" Sam grinned. As much as it pained her to think such about one of the opposite gender, she had to admit that they made a cute couple.

Evelyn groaned, hearing the first chords to the "pirate song" that was heard in _Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl_. "My phone's on the coffee table," she said, holding her hand out.

Sam sat up and handed Evelyn her phone. "Who is it?" Sam wondered aloud.

"Qaasimah," Evelyn said before pushing a button, unlacing her right hand from Stephen's – only to replace it with her left – and holding the phone to her right ear.

"_Bonjour, ne,_" Evelyn answered. She often mixed languages, especially replacing the English "hello?" with the French "bonjour" and the Japanese "ne," indicating a question. "_Ja_," Evelyn answered in German. The silence continued for a few beats. "_Solamente__ nosotros, ne,_" Evelyn asked, this time in Spanish and Japanese. Despite Qaaismah not knowing any Spanish, she quickly learned key phrases that Evelyn often used. Sam, however, remained willingly ignorant; she preferred the languages she could actually speak – German, Japanese, and Latin (in that order). "_A la ichi, ne,_" she asked, blending Spanish and Japanese. "_Ouí,_" she smiled, using French again. "_Ouí,_" she repeated. She hesitated for a moment before adding "_asi, asi_." "_Ouí, quiero,_" she said, mixing French and Spanish, which was very rare. "_Queremos_," she smiled. She stood, pulling on the tank top she'd worn to bed. During the morning, it'd slowly ridden up until it was curled to the smallest part of her waist. It still showed a bit of Evelyn's lower back and flat stomach, since almost all of her clothes didn't stay around her wide hips. "_Ouí! Aidio!_" she grinned before hanging up. Remembering she was wearing lounge pants and not jeans, she placed her phone on the coffee table.

"How does a triple date sound? The three of us, Ashley, Qaasimah and her 'boyfriend,'" Evelyn asked, doing her signature one finger air quotes that she'd begun after reading Brain Meehl's _Suck It Up_. "Call Ashley, desu."

"'Boyfriend,' Koneko?" Sam laughed. "Don't you mean Q's toy? And besides, I need to apologize anyways." With that, the runner stood, whined in pain – it was more of a yelp – when she bashed into the coffee table, and then headed for the guest bedroom again; she had left her phone on the bedside table.

* * *

A/N: Hey all! It's Evelyn again. I like doing these author notes. : ) Anyway, this chapter is super long. Apologies on that monster of mine right before the end. This is the only 'cause of that. And, we haven't finished writing the next chapter, so hold your horses. The typing will come much faster. So… Yeah. : ) Aidio!

Signed,

Usagi Tsukino (go-ahead-and-try)

And Haruka Tenou (Distant Sky King).


	5. Sam Fails Epically, and A Breakup

"Stop pulling on your tie," Evelyn demanded of Sam. "You look fine." Sam really did. Her simple black tuxedo with a white button-up was accented with a red tie and a handkerchief of the same color.

"You stop, too," Evelyn demanded, this time of Stephen. "You look fine." Stephen really did. His simple trousers with a light blue button-up were paired with a silver skinny tie.

"You look great, Evelyn," Stephen smiled. Evelyn blushed, grinning sheepishly. She wore a black high-waisted pencil skirt with an orange owl top.

"Let's go get Ashley!" Sam demanded.

With that, along with a sigh and a muttered "control the exasperation" from Evelyn – which translated as, "I know that's just how you function, but I _really want to slap you right now_" – the trio made their way to the smaller blonde's car, an aqua 1996 BMW Z3 convertible, which seated six. Sam knew it was childish, but she couldn't help being excited about the prospect of going on another date with Ashley, along with looking forward to making up for last night's fiasco.

_Problem is_, she thought, _this won't be a second date – at least, not an actual one_. After what had happened last night, the blonde and her would-be girlfriend had decided to take things slowly. This wouldn't be an actual date because they would be going as "just friends." All this had been decided when Sam had called Ashley two hours previously, after which she had returned home, partly to get her tux and partly to give Evelyn and Stephen some time alone together.

The trio then got into Evelyn's car, with the smaller blonde and her boyfriend in the front and Sam in the back.

"Chilly cab or sauna cab?" Stephen asked, looking at Sam through the rearview mirror.

"Don't even _think_ about answering that!" Evelyn hissed, twisting in her seat to glare at Sam directly. "Stop asking questions like that!" Evelyn growled, gently punching Stephen in the arm.

Sam snickered; the more argument you got out of the ice blue-eyed girl, the more she loved you. And already, Stephen and Evelyn had bickered almost every other word. Indeed, they were perfect for each other. The car started, slightly jarring the taller blonde from her thoughts.

"You look tired," Evelyn commented, looking at Sam through the rearview mirror. "It's almost two hours away, so I can wake you up at the halfway point: Ashley." She flipped her long side-bangs on top of her head, though they promptly slid back down the side of her head.

"Almost _two_ hours?" Sam repeated, about two octaves higher than her normal register.

"Ashley's at her cousins' house babysitting," Evelyn explained. "Her aunt is back, but Ashley doesn't have a car. Her aunt walked her from the bus stop and friends stopped her aunt off; her uncle has the car. Plus, we're meeting half-way with Qaasimah. She lives about four hours away."

"When did she move that far away?" Sam asked, shifting to lean against the door comfortably.

"Kinda', sorta', slightly recently," Evelyn stammered. "About two months ago."

Sam groaned, too tired to argue.

"You know what? Screw this," the taller blonde muttered, settling out across the length of the back seat. However, she found she was too tall and ended with her legs bent at the knees up against the opposite door. Sam tried to sleep, she really did, but ended up only spending an hour listening to Evelyn and Stephen bicker.

"Screw this," the runner growled for the second time, sitting back up. She ended sitting against the car door, her legs stretched out where she had been previously laying. She had to stop herself from snapping when she noticed her ice blue-eyed friend's concerned glance in the mirror.

"I can't function on seven hours of sleep, but I can only sleep at certain times," she explained, frustrated.

"We should stop here and fill up," Evelyn said, pointing to an upcoming gas station and convenience store. "Get you coffee or something so you can wake up," she commented.

Sam rolled her eyes; coffee didn't work properly with her. She's no more alert, but she can't fall asleep. "It's really hot in here," she suddenly complained. She sat up abruptly, as all four windows whizzed down.

"Be careful," Evelyn warned as she leaned forward and pushed a large button on the consol. As the roof separated from the windshield and began to pull back further and fold at the back of the car, Sam squealed.

"What is _that_?" Sam demanded, following the roof with her eyes.

"This is a 1996 BMW Z3 _convertible_," Evelyn explained. "Fill up the tank," she requested of Stephen, "and I'll pay you back soon." Then, after a chaste kiss on his lips, she climbed out of the car and motioned for Sam to follow her. Sam hurdled over the low-lying door and walked with her best friend to the small store. Evelyn hummed along to the song that was playing.

"Please?" Sam requested, pointing at the slushie machine. If it weren't for the fact that they looked the same age, the best friends could have passed for mother and daughter, or mother and son considering the tux Sam wore.

"A small one," Evelyn allowed. Anything larger would guarantee a crash halfway through the date. The shorter blonde filled a medium cup about three-fourths the way full with coffee and topped it off with creamer. Her phone chimed part of Train's "Soul Sister," meaning she got a text. She then groaned and clicked her heels nervously.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

"Qaasimah canceled on us," Evelyn groaned. "She got sick." She texted Qaasimah back, telling her that it was fine. She handed the coffee to Sam before sticking her head out the door. "Stephen!" Evelyn called. Once ice blue eyes locked with chocolate brown, the female signaled for the male to come inside.

"Is the date still on?" Sam asked nervously. Her index fingers were touching, pushing against the other. The shorter blonde separated them with the side of her hand. Before Evelyn could answer, Stephen wrapped his arms around her waist.

"What's up?" he asked, giving Evelyn a small peck on her temple.

"Qaasimah cancelled," Sam explained.

"We can revise and make it a lake-side picnic," the skirt-clad blonde offered.

"Huh?" Sam blinked, confused as hell.

Evelyn gave the taller blonde a look which said, 'You forgot? I knew you were a baka, but this is just stupid.' She then sighed, preparing to explain. The shorter blonde hoped the tuxedo-clad girl didn't forget within another hour.

"Originally, we were going to meet up with Qaasimah and her quote-unquote boyfriend to go to a restaurant. Now, since Qaasimah canceled, we need to revise plans."

"Oh," Sam replied, an innocently expressionless look on her face. Evelyn said nothing, but she looked like she _really_ wanted to slap the taller girl. The runner shrunk back slightly.

"Maybe we should get going," Stephen suggested, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"Yeah!" Sam squeaked, rushing out the door. Then she tripped and her slushie fell and promptly splattered about three feet away. As she lay sprawled there, Sam wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry, or do both.

"Get up or your tux'll get dirty," Evelyn requested. "And I'm not explaining that dry-cleaning bill to your mother." Often, to cover up forbidden male clothes, Evelyn claimed that Sam was holding onto a costume for her; besides being an actress, she was also creative director and had tasks such as costume coordination.

Sam jumped up and dusted herself off. If there was one thing Sam was afraid of, it was her mother's anger. Evelyn calmly sipped her coffee as she walked back to the car. As she popped the trunk, she unbuckled the ankle straps on her heels and motioned her best friend and her boyfriend over. She pulled three tote bags out of the trunk: one with the _Fruits Basket_ gang on the front, which she handed to Sam; one with Taylor Swift on the front, which she gave to Stephen; and one with _Glee_ on it, which she kept for herself.

"It has a swimsuit of yours in it," Evelyn explained, starting to braid the right half of her blonde hair. "Qaasimah warned me she might get sick, so I stole them." Then, with a cheeky grin, she stepped out of her heels and went to change. She returned a short time later in skinny knee-length shorts and a semi-transparent tank top that hung low on her chest, revealing her black with neon paint splatters bikini top. Stephen went to change while Evelyn sat in the car, braiding her hair. He returned with neon baby blue trunks and a gray tank top.

"Taylor Swift?" Sam wondered, indicating the bag Stephen was holding.

"She has a song called 'Hey, Stephen' that Evelyn jokes is about me," Stephen explained.

"Sam, go change," Evelyn requested. "I have a bottle of Ramune for you." Then, after sticking her tongue out at her best friend, Sam went and changed.

Grinning at the prospect of Ramune, Sam made her way to change. Despite the fact that she may have been a closet Ramune addict, the taller blonde only had the drink once every few months – Evelyn kept the soda for her. A small smile still on her lips, Sam called Ashley before changing. She never expected to hear the aquanette say what she did.

"Hello?"

_"Hey, dyke,"_ Ashley laughed.

Sam blanched; what on earth? "Ashley?"

_"Yep,"_ the shorter girl laughed, popping her 'p.'

The blonde remained confused. "Why the name-calling?"

_"Mostly 'cause you are a dyke; otherwise, you kinda' lied to me, so… Yeah, that's pretty much it."_ The sarcasm in her voice was evident and stinging; Sam winced, as if she had literally been slapped.

"But…" The word was whispered, hurt clear, but ignored.

_"Anyways, never talk to me again, 'kay, fag? And just eff-why-eye, no other girl will ever believe that you're a guy ever again; your games are over."_ The line then went dead.

Emerald eyes wide and glassy, the track star stood trembling slightly, all the blood drained from her face. She hadn't reacted to anything _this_ badly since the summer before (and for a good part of) sophomore year, when (and after) her grandmother died. That had nearly completely shattered her; she was still hesitant to wear short sleeves. Though she knew the scars on her left forearm weren't very visible, they could still be clearly seen in the right light. Other than that, her reasons for her cutting had come from another source – one which she now pulled from for comfort, despite having convinced herself that it would be best for everyone if she kept her feelings to herself. After willing her mind to clear, and after putting her phone away, the tall girl made her way back to Evelyn and Stephen.

She needed her Koneko right now, and feared she would break down otherwise. She usually went to the smaller blonde for comfort, but turned her focus to martial arts and track when Evelyn seemed too busy or focused on her own life. Sam hated to burden the soccer player with her issues, but sometimes what she was dealing with couldn't be helped by beating the crap out of a punching bag or running until she passed out from exhaustion on the track at school (her mother was often furious, but that usually didn't concern the blonde). Like now, for instance; this wasn't something track or karate could cure. She needed the solidarity of support her best friend offered.

She walked back out to the car, not yet changed. Evelyn's eyes were covered by bubble-style sunglasses as she shouted, it looked like. As Sam drew nearer, though, it became evident that the smaller blonde was simply singing at the top of her lungs. Sam couldn't make out any words, but it was apparently a rather happy song – at least, that's what she guessed from the grin on Stephen's face. Stephen, who was a couple inches taller than the eldest present, was sprawled out across the backseat. The reason the gangly male was able to do so comfortably while the martial artist wasn't? The martial artist didn't have her feet propped up on top of the car's door.

The taller blonde snapped to attention when the song and her best friend, rather abruptly, switched to sing-talking about "walk, walk, fashion, baby."

"What song is this?" Sam mouthed to Stephen, knowing she wouldn't be able to make herself heard over Evelyn and her iTouch – currently plugged into her updated stereo in the car.

Stephen held up a finger and gently nodded, giving her the 'hold on a moment' motion. Sam nodded, turning her attention back to the song and Evelyn, who'd yet to acknowledge her presence. Evelyn was no longer singing English; in fact, it sounded like French. The song was itching at the back of the eldest's brain; she should know this! When both the digital and the tangible singer broke into "want your bad romance," Sam groaned. Although she wasn't all together familiar with songs from mainstream pop culture, she knew Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" well enough to identify it, or so she had thought. But just as the song got back to the chorus, which Sam knew the words to, the music died down.

"Announce your presence!" Evelyn demanded, accentuating her point by bringing her fist down on the headrest of her seat. "Scare the shit out of me, why don't you," she grumbled before pulling her sunglasses up to the rest on top of her head. "And don't get dressed, why don't you," she added, though this statement had rumor laced through it. Just then, a riff of Green Day's "American Idiot" played from the consol of the car; it was Ashley calling Evelyn. It was a rather out-of-character ringtone to be found on her phone; after all, the only lyrics in the riff were "mind-fuck America." Evelyn picked up her phone and answered the call manually, though she didn't get a chance to verbally.

_"Hey!"_ Ashley screamed. Evelyn winced slightly; her sensitive hearing would be ringing by the time this conversation was over.

"Hi, Ley-ley," Evelyn answered. Sam winced; if she got a verbal beating and she had only just met Ashley, she could only imagine what Ashley was going to dish out to Evelyn. "What's up?"

_"You've been holding out on me!"_ the aquanette accused. The blonde's eyebrows met in the middle of her forehead, signaling her confusion.

"What do you mean?" Evelyn asked, trying to figure out what hole she'd accidently dug herself into. The only communication she'd had with Ashley so far today was confirming the date-slash-meet-up and Ashley texted her asking if the Facebook relationship status change was serious. _Ah, shit, _she though. This was about Stephen.

_"I mean that you totally skimped out on details about your boy!"_ Ashley exclaimed, as if her response was the only logical response and Evelyn was stupid for not anticipating this response.

"I don't owe you anything," the blonde stated simply. "It's my personal life and I'd like to keep it that way: personal."

_"Allow me a question,"_ Ashley begged. Evelyn sighed; she was afraid of what the question was, but she also really didn't want to put up with her friend's whining.

"Fine," the blonde relented.

_"Have you slept with him yet?"_ her friend fired off.

Every vertebrae in the younger's spine stacked on top of the one below until her back was rim-rod straight. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up. "_What?_"

_"You know, 'did the deed,' 'did the dirty,' 'got down and dirty,' 'knew each other,' 'did the bedroom boogie,' 'banged,' 'bumped uglies,' 'did the no pants dance, 'made the monster with two backs,' 'made babies,'"_ she rattled off.

"I _know_ what it means," Evelyn clarified, her cheeks a bright flaming red. She ducked her head, not wanting to give either of her friends anything to suspect that something was wrong.

_"Then, have you?" _Ashley demanded._ "Come on, you have to give me something here."_ Suddenly, there was loud, heavy bass on Ashley's side of the phone.

"I'm not going to talk to you until you're sober," Evelyn stated plainly, promptly hanging up. "Ashley drinks when she's upset," Evelyn explained quietly. "Something must have happened and she drinks and then she opens up about anything and everything. I can only guess what she must have said to you, Sam."

Sam shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Just turn the music back up and blast the jams."

"Go get changed and then I'll play the perfect song for this moment on the way to the lake," Evelyn bargained. Sam sighed and grabbed the tote, walking back into the building and quickly changing, not even registering what she was throwing on. She walked back outside and raised an eyebrow at Evelyn. Before she could stop herself, Evelyn began to giggle.

"Your shirt is on backwards," the shorter blonde commented. Sam looked down at her body and, sure enough, the shirt from her dojo that covered her one-piece black swimsuit was, indeed, on backwards.

"Oh, fail," Sam groaned.

* * *

A/N: Ta-dah! It's Evelyn again. It's almost Christmas, so this (and chapter four) will have to do until after vacation. Haruka and I don't do too well communicating daily via e-mail. xD Well, yeah. Enjoy!

Signed,

Usagi Tsukino (go-ahead-and-try)

and Haruka Tenou (Distant Sky King).


End file.
